


Push

by revise_leviathan



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V
Genre: M/M, other than that this turned out less creepy than my last attempt at this ship, warning for forced makeouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 13:10:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3730141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revise_leviathan/pseuds/revise_leviathan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War is a game, a game is a game, and Reiji has some lessons to teach Shun about how both of those things work.</p>
<p>Response to the Arc-V 30 Day Challenge, Day 12: Casino.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Push

**Author's Note:**

> Piggybacking on Shun again for last name basis for days--
> 
> Also a 'push' is apparently a draw in Blackjack, so. Jazz hands look at my titling skills.

“I have more important things to do than play along with your game of dress-up, Akaba.”

“This _is_ important. For a ‘veteran’, your tactics and finesse are remarkably lacking.”

It had been a while since Shun had worn anything except his battered coat, and having Akaba force him into some impractical and fancy waist-coated getup wasn’t helping him get any more comfortable with the idea. Of course, the guilty party himself looked entirely at ease in the look, because if he was ever anything else then he certainly didn’t admit it to anyone’s face. Complete with playing deck and knowing smile, along with the backdrop of the subtle blue-and-gold private rooms in some casino the Leo Corporation owned because of course it did, Akaba was the very image of the unscrupulous dealer.

Which, Shun figured, was more than appropriate.

“Sit.”

It was a simplistic order, and one Shun had had to follow far too many times when dealing with Akaba, but he did so anyway, tugging at the ridiculous waistcoat that insisted on riding up every time he did anything. He wasn’t sure how people could stand wearing these damn things for more than two seconds at a time. Akaba took his seat easily, shuffling the cards with dextrous fingers, paying no attention but somehow never missing a beat, until he set it down and dealt four cards; two to either of them, one of his own face-up. Shun’s only response was to raise an eyebrow.

“Am I supposed to know what _game_ you’re playing with me?”

“Blackjack.”

Shun’s face didn’t change, and Akaba gave a showy sigh of exasperation before spreading his hands, open for the moment.

“We each begin with two cards; I am the ‘dealer’, and you are the player. The aim is to get as close to twenty-one as possible without going over – with all cards being their numerical values, face cards as ten, and aces as one or eleven – but you must also beat the dealer’s hand to win the round. On your turn, you will have the option to ‘hit’ – be dealt one more card, or to ‘stand’ – remain with the hand you have at that time. If your hand goes over twenty-one, you immediately ‘bust’, or lose. Is that simple enough for you?”

That comment got him a rather dark look from Shun, who snatched his cards off the table as if they’d done him a personal insult. The sooner this got done, the sooner he could get to more important things.

“This is a casino, isn’t it? What are we playing for?”

It was a dry barb more than anything, but the way Akaba’s face turned to that predatory look that overtook it sometimes made Shun wonder whether he should have brought it up. The dealer tapped his glasses into place with one long finger, and smiled a too-easy, too lingering smile.

“I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

A promising thought. Shun almost felt like taking his eyes off Akaba to actually look at his cards was giving him too much trust here. Still, he had to do it sometime.

A jack and a two, for a value of twelve. And the only card of Akaba’s he could see was an ace. If he was dealt a nine or lower, he would still be in the game if he hit, but then, there was the risk of a ten or any one of the face cards. Akaba merely looked at him, the slightest of smirks shadowed on his face, waiting for his call.

“…Hit.”

Another card darted across the table, caught neatly and added to Shun’s hand. A three. Not the best thing he could have been dealt. And now, the odds were starting to lean against him on another hit keeping him in the game…

But Akaba’s card sat festering at the forefront of his mind. Anything above a four set down on that table could beat his hand as it was now. Surely it was worth the risk. He’d spent three years pulling out victories that should never have happened by all reasonable rights. Adding another one to that certainly wasn’t too much to hope for.

“Hit.”

And when the look on Akaba’s face shifted that one inch into triumph, he knew he’d made the wrong move.

Dealt. Checked. A seven. The lowest possible thing that could have put him out of the game, and Shun huffed like this wasn’t worth his time in the first place and cast his hand across the table for Akaba to see. The dealer’s face wasn’t exactly something he wanted to look at right now, but it was twisted with amusement.

“As I thought. Your first game is quite telling…a little overconfident, if I do say so myself. Too reckless. Relying on the odds to come out in your favour – as I have no doubt they’ve done plenty of times before.”

The day Akaba didn’t know everything would be the day hell froze over, but Shun spared him a hard and bitter glance nonetheless. As if he could compare this _game_ to the war they’d fought. The outcomes here and the outcomes there were two completely different things, and in the end, this didn’t matter at all.

“I would have thought your loss to Shiun’in Sora might cure you of that habit.”

Shun’s hands clenched, a simple reflex that stopped him from taking out all his anger – and, if he’d ever admit it to himself, lingering fear – from that encounter on the face in front of him. It wasn’t the same. It _wasn’t_.

“That has nothing to do with—”

“Doesn’t it?” The interruption was smooth and seamless, like the knowing look on Akaba’s face. “So then it was my imagination that you lost due to leaving a monster with one hundred base Attack out in that position and relying on the fact that it wouldn’t be brought down again. Reckless, Kurosaki. As reckless as your first jaunt into this game was, and that time it almost killed you.”

_Clunk._ Knocking his chair aside with the speed he stood up, Shun slammed his hands on the pristine green table, teal hair flickering like rough seas around his face as he leant as close to Akaba as he could without actually touching the scum.

“This isn’t _war!_ This is _irrelevant!_ And you know _nothing about me!_ ”

Nothing like emotion moved in those imperious purple eyes when they narrowed, and Akaba stood with more elegance to look into Shun’s outraged yellow ones evenly.

“There are many rumours around me, Kurosaki, but one you should never question is that I _know_. I know you better than you know yourself, perhaps. But then, that might not be saying much.”

A spitting sound and a half-turn away was Shun’s only response, until he heard a short, tiny exhale of laughter.

“You even follow orders how I expect.”

Orders? His thoughts on Akaba’s ‘orders’ were about to be summed up very nicely by a fist into the bridge of his nose. He’d had enough of Akaba’s high-and-mighty crap, it was about time someone—

Had their punch intercepted by him again before it could do any more than rustle the target’s grey spikes of hair. Rather than just throwing Shun back as he’d done to Sakaki, Akaba swung him around to meet the richly patterned wall with his back, pinning back the arm he’d punched with and bringing up a knee to trap the other. Shun jerked hard and tried to lash out with whatever he had left, but Akaba was too close for any meaningful power behind it, and it was all he could do to snarl and wince as Akaba twined those delicate fingers of his into Shun’s hair and pulled.

“You think I’ve only been honing my _dueling_ skills since I learnt of the war? I might not have had desperation as my teacher like you, but I found proper instruction and an adequate sparring partner equally effective…”

“So you’ve made your point. Get your hands off me.”

There it was again, that face to reassure Shun this had been just as bad of an idea as he’d thought. The free hand moved from his hair to his jaw, and he grunted, protesting, as Akaba dug his fingers in.

“Not yet. You lost the bet, you recall, and then you try to _attack_ me? I can’t let such arrogance slide.”

“Ngh…what are you— _mmf!_ ”

Shun thrashed and squirmed as Akaba’s mouth met his – he’d bite down if the bastard wasn’t dragging his jaw open still, and the worst part was that Akaba knew that – but he was cornered like all his friends had been before him, once, and now it was his turn again. He tried to speak, to demand what the hell he thought he was doing, but his voice was muffled by the lips on his and the tongue in his mouth, working its way around like it owned the place and prodding his own in its feeble efforts to push the other back out. It was infuriating to admit, but he was at the mercy of this asshole for as long as he thought ‘necessary’, and there was no telling how long that would be.

When Akaba finally pulled away, Shun hadn’t stopped trying to fight back, but he took a moment to catch his breath before any words made it out of his mouth.

“What the _hell_ was that supposed to be?” he hissed, eyes not leaving Akaba’s. He could almost swear something stirred in them at that, only for a second – but he must have been imagining things, because that wasn’t _hurt_ he picked up. Like hell it was.

“I would have thought that obvious, even to you.”

“ _Even_ to me?”

“Well, with all that _war_ , when would you ever have time for this?”

As if to see how he would respond, Akaba dropped the knee against his wrist, and it didn’t take longer for a second for the freed hand to lash out and snag a handful of pristine white shirt collar.

“I have time now.”

Dragged forward into another kiss, this one filled with bites and petty venting of warranted anger, Akaba smiled, and brought himself in even closer.

“As I suspected.”

Shun couldn’t find it in him to break them apart and punch him in the face.


End file.
